Redemption
by Joe Hogle
Summary: I have a cool storyline for this one, but it's not very well thought out. But it's basically a constant flow of incredible action sequences, and is satisfyingly fun to read.(AN- you might have to read this in chunks, it's pretty long.)


"Quentin? Quentin McJones?" A grinning man approached me, calling out my name. He wore the black pants of a CorSec Enforcer. His shirts sleeves were rolled up and he wore a light combat vest over his chest. A Plasma Sniper Rifle was slung across his back, one you could only get in the black market. Across his left hip hung a vibrosword, and an unholstered pistol hung from the right.

"Joe Hogle." I took a puff of my cigarette.

"I thought you quit smoking."

"I tried. I thought you quit being an S.O.B."

Joe laughed. "I tried. So what brings you to the happy town of Regal?"

I took another puff of my cigarette, trying to drown out the taste of bacta. Of course, after that I'd have to drown out the taste of the cigarettes. "A dead partner and a trip to the bacta tanks."

"Again? Looks you're mister lucky."

"Well, I'm sure you're presence helps a lot."

Joe laughed again, but then took on a more solemn tone. "Look, the rebels are getting lazy, and the Imperials are back. They're stuck in they're own little wars, leaving us CorSecs to enforce every law. So personnel is short. We need you to down at Coreillia. I need you took help me take out Gal Connade."

For all his jokes and laughter, Joe had saved my ass many a time, and his marksmanship with any gun was unsurpassed. He knew when to take a serious tone, and I had known and trusted him for a long time.

We sat down in the UpTown Cantina, Coreillia's best. The dim lighting always gave me a feeling of safety, of being at home. We were at a corner booth, each with Corellian brandy sitting in front of us.

"Our inside man, Jack Logan, has become a trusted man in Gal Harding's group," Joe took a sip of brandy and brushed his hair away from his eyes, "Gals finally coming to Coreillia."

Gal Harding was a big time smuggler. He ran a tight operation, was wary, and avoided CorSec. I didn't like him.

"Good."

"Hanson's warehouse. Bring your guns."

"Got a plan?" Joe seemed a little ambitious for this one. I wanted to live.

"No."

"Great. What're we going to do then."

"We can improvise."

Great. Not only were two people going to have to take down one of the biggest smugglers in the galaxy, we had to do it with no plan. I liked a good challenge though...

* * *

Joe had brought two vibroswords, and had put his pistol in the pocket of his combat vest. His sniper rifle was still strung around his back.. I held both pistols calmly, one in each hand. Gal slowly walked out of his ship, accompanied by his escorts.

"Jake told me about you two."

Joe looked at me. "Did he now?"

This was not good. If Gal knew about the operation, knew about everything, then it was over. "Yes. And about CorSec." Joe and I could only watch as Jake, his face beaten into a bloody pulp, was dragged out from behind the ship.

"I-I'm sorry." Blood bubbled out between his lips, and I could see the holes under his fingernails where they had stuck the needles.

Gal smiled. "You see, I have ways of getting what I want." He drew his pistol and shot Jake in the face.

"Now, drop your weapons, and both of you come with me." Me and Joe looked at each other. Things were not looking up. We had two choices; 1. Turn over our weapons, giving away pride and honor, and possibly get killed. 2. Fight and keep pride and honor, and almost certainly get killed.

Without a word, I drew my pistols and dove for cover behind a nearby crate. The warehouse was big, and Gal for sure had people all over. Joe swept across the guards in a wide arc with his vibroswords, cutting two of them in half. He then retreated to the crate parallel to mine, dropping his vibroswords, and drawing his sniper rifle. I fired three shots blindly around the sides of my crate, keeping my heading down. I heard a satisfying thump, which told me at least one of my shots hit. Joe had already started taking out the guards further away. I signaled for him, yelling over the din of blaster fire;

"You cover, I'll get Gal!" Joe nodded in recognition, barely taking time between shots, not pulling his eye from the scope. I took off, diving and rolling between crates, until I spotted Gal in the far right corner, behind a pile of durasteel, safe from Joe's rifle fire. He saw me, fired two shots, which went wide, and ran through the open door behind him. I unloaded with both pistols, catching him seven times in the back, firing until my guns were too hot to hold. I slid them into their holsters, ran to Gal, but not as cautiously, as enemy fire seemed to have died down a little. He was lying face-down in a puddle of blood. His blaster lay four feet away, facing to wall. I turned him over with my foot. As I did, his body began to go into spasms, his blood still trying to bring some life into him. Then he stopped, and I reached in his pocket and pulled out the datacards. I found great satisfaction in killing him, although I knew it was wrong. I left the body there, and wound my way back to Joe, who still seemed to be peering in his scope, looking for smugglers that weren't there.

"Joe, they're gone." Then I noticed the trickle of blood running down his neck, and the small puddle it formed beneath his body.

"Joe?" I reached down and turned his body over. His hands still gripped the Rifle. Then I saw the left side of his face, entirely gone, revealing a melted mess of brains beneath. I felt vomit rise in my throat, and let it come. I puked twice more, then sat down, cradling his limp body in my arms, and began to cry. Right there I vowed never to befriend another, because that way led to pain. I vowed to leave CorSec, leave it all behind...

* * *

3 years later...

The spaceport was dry, metallic, and seemed to carry and air of emotionless ness. Good. I trekked back to my Interceptor, and I call it that only because TIE no longer applied to it. I had given it an X-Wing shield system from the black market, and a hyperdrive system I had bought off a dealer named Franco. The hyperdrive system was only illegal because it rivaled the New Republics production of them, as it used as little fuel as possible for optimal speed. Landing Gear fit specially for the ship rounded off the job. To counter the weight of these add-ons I had installed an A-Wing engine I had salvaged from Tarsonis beneath the rear viewport. These upgrades gave my ship advantage over New Republic starfighters, it's only disadvantage the lack of torpedoes.

* * *

I had become a sort of mercenary, aiding in the protection of various warlords still fighting the Republic, the Republic who were now a fascist as the Imps once were. I was headed out to Warlord Sanom, a man who seemed good at times, and at a loss of sanity at others. He didn't tell us where we were going, but according to the sources of fellow Mercs, we were off to Yavin to strafe a Jedi Academy. The Jedi Academy. The Jedi annoyed me, for all their crap about protecting the galaxy, while then it was in more turmoil than ever. SO I looked forward to this trip, trusting Sanom had appropriate resources to get through Jedi defenses and pull a stunt like this. So I took the job, needing the money. Only two other Mercs were leaving from this port; Jan Green, pilot of an old B-Wing, and Harry Mulat, who flew an upgraded Preybird. And we were off, me ignoring comments of good luck, ignoring any motions to befriend me before we all possibly died.

The trip to Yavin took me two hours, and I switched all systems except life support off, knowing I'd have to wait another half-hour for the others to get here. So I took the time to relax, and in the last five minutes turned everything on and did a double check of all my systems, which proved that everything was going as planned. Soon, I saw a Katana class frigate and a star destroyer jump in. The Final Card, and Sanoms Vengeance. I then found my self in a swarm of all types of Uglies and snubfighters. A harsh voice came over the comm.

"All fighters in attack position."

There were about sixteen Mercs here, besides the Sanom's Vengeance's twelve interceptors. We all prepared in out own little way, and I heard voices over the comm, some cracking jokes, others whispering silent prayers. The voice over the comm cackled:

"And may the force be with you."

Some of us laughed, and we moved in to attack, as this was our queue. The frigate had already brought down the planetary shields in a barrage of torpedoes. I suspected this attack would deal great damage to the New Republic, the killing of their precious Jedi. I saw twelve X-Wings rise from the planet. Sanom was a smart man. That was Rogue Squadron, and they're deaths would solidify the damage. Good timing on Sanom's part. I saw a black X-wing next to me launch a barrage of torpedoes at the temple, bring down it's shields, and I blasted through the ancient monolith with my lasers on single fire. I then curved up, letting the rest of the attack force finish it, and curved towards the X-Wings, switching to dual fire.

The young Jedi beneath me were all running for the woods, and I could afford to let them go. But I wanted to test the Rogue's piloting skills. I opened up on them with lasers, not taking aim, hoping they would take me for a rookie. They fell for it. Rogues three and four came to meet me, falling in behind. They had already used their torpedoes on the frigate, where the rest of Rogue squadron was headed. I let them splash my aft shields, just to imagine the suprise of finding a shielded Interceptor. They were coming closer, and I couldn't let them get too close. I switched some engine and laser energy to recharging my shields, and pulled a tight swerve around, and flew right between the two X-Wings. I then turned around, quickly switched laser and engines to full, put Rogue four in my targeting brackets, and fired. the lasers splashed against four's shields, destroying them, then hit the cockpit, causing it to explode in a burst of flames. I then switched to the Rogues comm frequency, and used my top-of- the line system to listen in.

"Took three out...Didn't...Chance...Careful...shields..."

I tuned in on Nines frequency, currently Corran Horn, who lasted longer than all the pilot's there through the years except for Wedge Antilles and Tycho Celchu. The frequency came through clear this time.

"Lead, I'm going for that Interceptor. He killed Jackson, and I don't want him getting anyone else."

"Go, Nine, this frigates dust."

"Copy. Four, pull out and help with that frigate."

I smiled. Getting to dogfight with the Republics best. This would be fun. I keyed on my mike.

"Horn, you ready to dance?"

"Give me you're name and I will be."

"Quentin McJones."

"Of CorSec?"

"Yes."

"The one who let his partner die while he was hunting big fame?"

I stopped smiling. Who was this bastard. Uncovering MY memories. I didn't let Joe die. He was covering me...

Corran spoke again. "The one who ran from his mistakes, who was afraid of the consequence."

"Shut up."

"I can sense it. A little touchy on the subject, are we?"

"Shut Up Dammit! You're Nothing!"

"No, McJones, you're nothing."

I opened fire, chewing away at his shields. I was done with talking. Corran got the message, and pulled a hard brake, and I overshot him, not able to stop in time. He lined up behind me, and hit me with a quad blast, taking out my aft shields. I pulled around, using my ships speed to the advantage. I used dual-lasers to take out his aft-shields and nail his starboard engine. An explosion echoed through space, the destruction of the Final Card. Sanom's voice cam over the comm;

"All fighters, back to base. Rebel reinforcements are on their way, about five minutes You'll find your payments in the specified accounts. It's over."

I pulled my ship away from Horn's. Getting caught by those reinforcements was not worth killing Horn, if the stories of torture were true.

"Next time, McJones."

"It's a date Horn. I can teach you a few lessons."

I keyed my ships navigation controls, and made the jump to hyperspace...

* * *

When I got back to Gerad Prime, I found a nice 50,000 creds in my account, a sum that could allow me a months vacation. Sanom had also left a lightsaber, stolen from the academy, as an act of gratitude for my killing of a rogue squadron member. The news was up in smoke about the attack, with a report of sixteen Jedi deaths, and three injuries. Only two had escaped unscathed. New Republic leaders promised vengeance, and Final Cards destruction became a footnote. Carth Jackson's death was another reason to yell, for if Rogue Squadron couldn't take them, then who could? And on and on it went, until something caught my interests. Leia Organa Solo was to make a speech tonight. Her husband, Han, had been one of the bastards who killed my family over spice. Tonight, I would exact my revenge on his wife.

I entered the large amphitheatre where she was to speak. It was packed. Not a seat was empty, and I was forced to stand against the wall. I scanned the area. There was a large skylight above me. The seats sloped down and a podium stood in the middle of the amphitheatre, surrounded by them. A guarded stairwell led down to it. I decided I would take the shot from the skylight, which was the best place for it. It was still about six-hundred yards away, almost impossible, even with a black market modified SR7894. Joe could do it. But Joe was dead. I leaned against the wall, banishing all thoughts of my past. I would need to concentrate. Senator Solo spoke in twenty minutes. I left the amphitheatre and went around to the back. Luckily, It was nighttime and I would be almost impossible to see against the dark amphitheatre walls. I began the slow climb to the top, after making sure there were enough handholds. I trusted my ability to climb, and there wasn't enough time to do anything else. I had my sniper rifle disassembled in my backpack, along with a protein bar, water, four smoke grenades, two ion grenades, a rope, a blaster, and three packs of ammunition. When I reached the top, I found it unguarded. The Rebels thought they were so safe. I assembled my sniper rifle, checking the scope, zooming in to 15x. That would have to do. The SR7894 fired an invisible shot, so it would be impossible for them to trace me. I took a sip of water, zeroed in on the podium, and waited. Sure enough, there came Princess Leia, flanked by three guards and one of the surviving Jedi. She stood at the podium and began her speech, which I could hear clearly from my position;

"My fellow people of the New Republic. A horrible tragedy has taken place. Yesterday, innocents of the new Republic were maliciously slaughtered." Leia took a deep breath, "I am here to tell you the New Republic will not stand for this! We will find these murderers, and exact justice upon them! We will sit here idly! Rest assured, you are safe in our hands!"

Perfect. As Leia began to speak again, I fired. It was a beautiful shot too, from six-hundred yards. The laser struck her high in the left shoulder, burning through skin and bone. I bet they never figured anyone could make a shot like that. I fired again, missing her, but hitting one of the people in the crowd. Damn. I didn't want the innocents to die, only the New Republic ands it's cruel leaders. I realeased the energy pack on the roof, and slapped in a new one. The Jedi was pointing to the roof, which I took as my queue to leave. I dropped all the smoke and ion grenades down, knowing all comm systems would be disabled, and the smoke would add much to the confusion.

I tied the rope to the side of the building, and hoped my gloves could withstand the rope burn. If not, my hand would be gone. I slid down, which took about twenty seconds, and my gloves took minimal damage. I hit the ground, and merged into the crowd running from the amphitheatre, and, once safe in an alleyway, heading towards the spaceport. I got there, shot the guards, and climbed into my interceptor, taking off. I had previously changed my flight records, so it seemed me nor my interceptor had never been on the planet.

* * *

While on Bardik I had a two thousand creds paint job done for my interceptor. It was painted completely black, except for green zig-zags on each side that seemed like bolts of lightning. I had no kills painted on (I believe people use that as a bragging right, and killing someone shouldn't be one). I rented a hotel room , a little dingy, but good enough for me. I decided that the next week I would relax. I didn't turn on the news, and listened to nothing about Leia Organa Solo. I had exacted my revenge, and although I didn't kill her, the pain I dealt to her and the damage of the New Republic's reputation was enough. So I watched a few cheesy B-movies, got cleaned up, and went to sleep. I slept well that night, with no nightmares of dead partners visiting me.

The next morning I got a hot cup of coffee and walked around the streets surrounding the hotel. It seemed a pleasant area, and I had left all my weapons at home, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Maybe it was time to quit the whole mercenary stuff, I had enough money saved up to start a nice trading business, good, clean, no killing.

I had thought about what Horn said, and decided he was partially right. I was, in fact, running from my problems. I would go back, pay Joe's family a hefty sum, and set things right. I was thinking of these things when I noticed the man screaming at me to put my hands in the air and give him all my money. He had a blaster pointed at my face, the cheapo retail store kind. How ironic. As soon as I decided to stop being the hunter, I became a victim of a petty thief. I would have to kill this man. Or, I could break his arm, take his gun, and make an anonymous call to the authorities. Choosing the latter, I did just that, breaking his wrist, taking his gun, and knocking him out. I then found a payphone, made the call, and continued my walk. I felt good about myself that day.

I made an anonymous drop-off of twenty-five thousand creds to Joe's family, leaving a message that reads as follows:

'Joe was a hero and a friend, and I know this money can't make up for it. No money could.'

I couldn't think of anything else to say. But I felt better, although a little sad, after leaving that message.

I read once that Corran Horn had gone about with a lighsaber once, scaring various pirate gangs, fighting crime. I decided to help redeem myself, I would need to pull something similar off. So I bought a nice black robe, and began practicing with the lightsaber Sanom had given me. It had a silvery-blue blade, and looked rather honorable. I learned to use it quite well, and weapons training from CorSec didn't hurt.

I went down to Tarsonis, which then was a breeding ground for crime. I rented a hotel, and stayed pretty much to myself. That night I would go hunting.

* * *

For the first ten minutes, I found nothing. Then, down A dark alleyway, I found three men holding short vibroblades cornering an old man. Old people. The men were ordering for his wallet, and he cried for help, which went completely unnoticed in a town like this. I ignited my lightsaber, and said;

"Hi."

The three men turned around, noting my lightsaber.

"Who the hell, are you, some sort of a fucking Jedi, cuz' we're not scared?"

"I'm just trying to fix things."

"Look buddy, get the fuck out or I'm gonna have to hurt you."

"I think you have that the wrong way."

I grabbed the first man's wrist, twisting the blade out of his hand, and hitting him as hard as I could on the head with the butt of my lightsaber. It knocked him out (I thought I had killed him until I realized he was breathing). One of the other two slashed at me with his vibroblade, and I swiped upwards with the lightsaber, cutting his hand off, letting a sickly green smoke rise into the air from dissolving blood and skin. He wouldn't die, the laser cauterized the wound, but he'd remember this night. Him and his friend then began to run, leaving the other lying in the dirt. I turned to the old man.

"Hi."

"Thank you. But, if I may inquire, who are you?"

I couldn't reveal myself, every pirate here would be after me. My mind turned to the cheesy B-Movies I had seen the other day. My mind went to the badly named hero's in them. I thought I could have a little fun with this.

"You can call me the Redeemer."

The next day, when I saw the local Holonet headlines, I broke into laughter. I just couldn't stop. Okay, here we go;

'REDEEMER STRIKES ON CRIME'

Is that not amazing! I was dying with laughter! My god, I was a goddamm superhero! Wow, what a day! I couldn't wait to go hunting again tonight, if just to see tommorow's headlines...

That night I found a nice secluded warehouse. Two men and a woman were laughing as they tormented a young woman. They had him tied up against the wall, and were using blasters on low, slowly dissolving her skin. The air was acrid with the stench of it, I could almost see the insanity, the evil, radiating off the three. I ignited my lightsaber, stepping out of the shadows.

"STOP IT!"

The three turned around, completely surprised. Again, the expected response;

"Where the sith did this bastard come from?"

"You really want to know, my friend?"

Fear flashed through the mans eyes. I let the left side of my face show, the side cut with scars so deep bacta couldn't cure them.

The second man was creeping behind me.

"Do you! Huh! What kind of a sick fuck burns someone! What did he do to you!" I was angry, and I let it flow.

"We was just having a little fun-" I cut him off, slicing my lightsaber through his legs. The second man was closer now.

"FUN!NEXT TIME YOU HAVE FUN IT WON'T JUST BE YOU'RE LEGS I TAKE!"

I turned, grabbing the second man's wrist and breaking it. I kneed him in the stomach.

"YOU WANT SOME FUN TOO!HERE, FUCKING TAKE IT!" I kneed him again, knocking him to the floor. He sat there crying.

"No more, no more..."

"You're right. No more." I realized what I had just done. "Take you're friends out. Take them to a hospital. I'll be watching. If he-"I pointed to the man hanging from the wall, who was moaning now. "If he doesn't make it, I can find worse things than death." As I left, I cut the man on the walls bonds away. "I'll be watching."

But I didn't need to watch. I knew they would make it. That night wasn't as fun as the last.

'REDEEMER SAVES HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT FROM DEATH'

The next night my hunt was uneventful. The morning after, I awoke to the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. The afternoon, I walked the streets in civilian garb, but still with my lightsaber and blaster. I soon noticed that at least three men were following me. I turned in a nearby alley, pulled out my lightsaber, and hung from a brick jutting out from the top of a dirt covered window, out of the line of sight of anyone at ground level.

It turned out it was six men. They passed under me, trying to figure out where I went. I dropped down from the overhead railing behind them.

"Right here."

They turned, at first surprised, and in a flash each held a blaster that was previously holstered. These were professionals.

"Gentlemen, I suggest you leave."

They didn't move. The first reached for me. I grabbed his wrist and spun him around, letting his body catch all the laser blasts coming at me from the tight alleyway. I clipped my lightsaber to my belt and drew my blaster as fast as possible while still holding the man. I spun him around, shoved him forward, grabbed a blaster from his holster with my left hand, crossed my hands, and shot out his kneecaps. He began to kneel, uncovering the man behind him, whom I shot in the face. Another man came at me, punching me in the face, and I felt a tooth snap in half in my mouth. There wasn't much room to move in the alleyway, so I started with an uppercut to his jaw, and delivered a front kick to his stomach. The man flew backwards into the one behind him. I unclipped my lightsaber, and stabbed it through them both(not unlike a shishcabob). I kicked against the wall and vaulted over the remaining two men, cutting ones head in half as I went, the two parts flopping to the side, revealing the brains beneath. No time to vomit now. The last man began to run, and I let him, exhausted from our little bout that didn't last more than a minute.

The next day, I decided to run. I had done enough redeeming, and being hunted by pirates wasn't on my agenda. Only problem was, I didn't know what I would do. I wanted to do some good to the galaxy, and I just couldn't take the boredom of some sort of a trading company. I needed action. I didn't want to join the New Republic, but the Empire was just as bad. And cannon fodder for some warlord was not ideal. Maybe...

* * *

I walked into Mos Eisley, clad in dark black, wearing a large trenchcoat, concealing my lightsaber and blaster. My dark hair fell forward, almost covering my eyes. I let the blaster scars on the left side of my face show, increasing my intimidation and overall coolness level. I wore black pilot boots, which I thought were a nice touch. I sat down at the bar, surrounded by rough aliens of all types. Although the rest of the galaxy had changed, for once I was thankful Mos Eisley hadn't. After a few sips of brandy, and surveying the bar population, I stood and raised my glass.

"Fellow pilots, I have a proposition..." I rose to my full height, six foot one. "I need to start a squadron. To serve justice to the galaxy. With the rebellion, empire, and warlords amongst their own wars, I believe we can serve justice to all of them. Us freelance pilots are tossed aside like bad brandy, sold to the highest bidder. We will start a new wave in society! We will rise to protect those of us caught in the middle! We will protect, and harm who it takes to do that, Republic, Empire, whoever. Whoever is with me, step forward, and join!" Three pilots stepped up from the bar, all human.

"Gregory Pale, X-Wing."

"Fredrick Spade, B-Wing."

"Toret Slater, Predator. Although it is a bit upgraded."

This was easier than I thought. Looks like a lot of people shared my opinion. Gregory was light skinned, with brown, ruffled hair falling across his eyes. He had a blaster strapped to each hip. Spade was incredibly dark skinned, with shortly cut black hair. A rapid fire carbine was strapped across his hip, Toret Slater was a thin woman, with dark brown hair falling just under her ears.

I smiled. "I have a warehouse on Coreillia. It's got a nice yard in back, large enough to fit twelve snubfighters. Meet me here in twelve hours, ready to go."

* * *

I had gotten the warehouse from a smuggler I had taken in, one of his left over possessions CorSec had taken and decided to give to me.

All four of us made the landing fine, and had no mishaps with the authorities. I brought them in to the musty basement of the warehouse. There was a secret passageway, but if CorSec found out who I was, they could dig up blueprints in a second. We all sat down at the table, in hard, dusty chairs. I pulled out my datapad, and began to tell them my plan...

We flew into R'asde four ships, painted ominously black, with Laser Green zigzags along our wings. A Predator, B-Wing, X-Wing, and Interceptor. A dangerous mix of ship types. We flew in a massive square, each of us ready to pair off with our wingmen. Tore't was my wing, and Greg and Spade were paired off. We had jumped in at just the right time, as two squadrons of interceptors closed in on three lightly armed freighters with an escort of two tie fighters. We leveled our ships towards the interceptors.

"Pair off with your wings. We'll take ships one through twelve, you take the others."

Me and Tor'et came close together, her upgraded Predator engines matching the speed of mine. She locked onto One, and hit them with a concussion missile, which caught up to the craft in seconds, destroying it.

"Nice shot Slater. But where'd those fighters come from?"

"Don't know. Let's be wary here."

Four of the fighters were pulling back towards us, and I got off two dual bursts at one, the first going wide, the second taking off it's wing in a mass of fire that quickly turned to ice in the vacuum. Two more swooped in behind me. No time to check on the others now. I throttled down on the yoke, juking left and right as laser blasts swept past me. Two hit my aft shield, bringing it down halfway. I pulled my interceptor to the left, but I knew I was caught. Another two blasts came to my right, one breaking on my shields, the other penetrating, but only to deal minimal damage to my left wing. Quite suddenly, the two interceptors blipped out on my radar. What the?

Tor'et's voice came over the comm. "You're Welcome, lead."

I had forgotten I had a wing, from flying solo for the past three years. Luckily, Tor'et hadn't.

"Thanks, Slater."

"No problem. Just don't forget about me over here."

"I won't."

At least I hoped so. Everyone was handling themselves well, and only six ties were left, three of them mine. Ours. I hit the nearest one on single fire, taking out the top of the cockpit, sucking the pilot from it. I swerved out of the way too late, and the dead pilot spattered across my viewport, covering it in innards that slowly slid to the outer edge, them flew off to freeze in space and be eaten by mynocks. Disgusting. But, at least my viewport was now clean of dirt, as all the sliding blood had picked it up before the blood itself flew off from my maneuvers. I hit the next interceptor head on, destroying it. Tor'et took care of the last one. I then saw a Katana class frigate pull out from behind the moon.

"Shit. That's where the fighters came from. All ships, hype back to Coreillia NOW!"

Greg's voice came over the comm;

"Lead, we don't have to. Looks like their running."

What? They were running?

"Running? Why?"

"They must think we're bigger than we really are. Shall we talk to the freighters?"

"But of course."

I keyed my comm to the freighters frequency.

"Travelers, you are now safe."

"Who are you?"

"Call us the Phantoms."

When we got back to base, Fredrick approached me with a question. How were we supposed to get income? Interesting. All of us seemed to be incredible pilots, taking out two squadrons of interceptors alone. I would hate to have that go to waste because of money...

Look, you can just pay up." I let my hand rest on my gun holster, just to let Daro know I could kill him if I wanted to. We were in a small office, with gray walls. Daro sat behind a large desk, which was neatly organized.

"You mind as well begin your drawing your weapon now, as it'll take you fifteen minutes."

A year ago I would have shot him then and there, but I decided against it now. But I still needed to intimidate him. So I drew my blaster, and knew it would appear from his standpoint that the gun had just appeared in my hands. I let him stare at the barrel for a moment, let him stare in shock that I hadn't just killed him. He looked down at his chest to make sure a hole wasn't appearing there.

"I mind as well shoot you now, as it will take fifteen minutes for the blast to make it through your dense skull." I retorted, sarcastically.

I hadn't yet pondered how to make any money, so I had gone back collecting old debts. Daro owed me fifteen thousand credits from a little gambling stint, quite a hefty sum.

"I don't have the money now..."

"Don't play games Daro, I'm not in the mood."

"Life is a game, McJones."

I handled myself coolly. "Well then you're not going to like the way I play. Now pay up."

I noted his left hand was slowly moving towards a partially concealed red button atop his desk, probably an alarm to call the guards. His right moved towards his holster.

"Now, now, Daro, we don't want anybody hurt do we?" His left hand rushed towards the button, but I was faster, and I shot, letting my hands do the work. Two of his fingers were lopped clean off, and he recoiled in his chair, whining.

"It's all fun and games until somebody gets killed Daro." I said, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice. "Then it's really fun. But just from my point of view. Now, give me my money. Slowly."

He did, knowing he was beaten. His right hand left his hip, and reached into a compartment under the desk, and I heard a click as his fingerprint was acknowledged. He pulled out a briefcase. I checked it. It was full of cash, all real.

"Thanks."

I turned, put the money in my backpack, and left. But something just had to happen, with my luck. I felt the change in the air as his blaster charged, and I spun around, letting off three quick shots, all catching him in the forehead, covering his neat little room with splashes of bright crimson. I thought the new decoration made it a happier place to be. His body slumped down to his desk, landing on the alarm. Crap. A klaxon sounded through the firm office, and I heard the rush of guards coming up the stairwell. It would be impossible for me to make it down. But knowing Daro, he had to have had a back door somewhere. I searched the room, and found what I was looking for. A small hatch under the window, leading to an outdoor stairwell. I slammed the door shut, locked it, and fired three shots into the hinges, welding it shut. Explosives could open it easily, and I hoped the authorities weren't packing any. I crawled through the hatch, and began sprinting down the stairwell. The guards who had parked their hovercraft in front of the building noticed me, and I felt the air around me charging with heat from the riot guns. Blasts from badly aimed guns chipped away a the side of the building, and I drew both pistols, keeping my sprint. I extended my arms and began to fire wildly at the guards below, hitting two. Then went down hard on the duracrete, spraying blood around them. Another guard was running up the stairwell, and I ran into him when I rounded a corner. Twisting his arm around, I kicked him over the railing, and his body hit the ground below with a sickening crunch. I continued my run, still firing at the guards below me. I hit another one, in the left temple, blowing away half his face, spreading his brains across the duracrete. I leapt down the rest of the way, landing in a roll, and coming up in my run. I jump in one of the vacant patrol craft out front, and thanked the powers that be that the keys were in the ignition. I started my drive towards the spaceport, speeding along the high traffic roadways. I turned a hard left, putting a supplies truck between me and my pursuers, who had also jumped into their own patrol craft. One couldn't stop in time, and slammed into the truck, exploding. I had shaken my pursuers, and felt the rest of my adrenaline dissipate. When I reached the spaceport I was exhausted, and climbed into my interceptor and took off, using time in hyperspace to get much needed rest...

* * *

I flew above our little base, my warehouse. It was on fire. IT WAS ON FIRE! Authority vehicles surrounded it, and I could see Gregory's body lying facedown in the mud, next to his ship. They had found us. Oh, god, they had found us. Fredrick and Tore't I could see them running from the house. I leveled my ship at the authority vehicles and strafed them, destroying two. Oh, god, I couldn't let it happen again. I couldn't. I saw lasers cut Tore't clean in half, the two parts of her body landing six feet apart, her organs trailing behind her. Oh, god. Fredrick got shot in the face. I landed my ship, and ran to Tore't. I didn't care if they shot me. This was my fault. What had I done. Tore't was still alive, awake, breathing, struggling to lift her blaster and shoot at the authorities. I came to her, and cradled her broken body in my arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." She died in my arms, unable to speak. Her empty, dead eyes stared at mine, accusing me, condemning me. No, I didn't deserve to die. I deserved to suffer. I sat there, silent, and let them take me to jail, let them interrogate me, put me in their high security prisons. I could only dream of the people I killed, and cry for them . And when I ran out of tears, I sat silent, huddled in the corner. My nightmares became more and more horrible...


End file.
